Showing posts with label animals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label animals. Show all posts

Sunday, 18 January 2015

A Poem a Day 2015 (18): Furs and stripes

Okay, I'm not sure where this one came from. Some five-minute Sunday craziness, but with a serious message. Cheers :) 

Furs and stripes

Cats in tall hats
Doggies in scarves
Nothing is achieved
Doing it by halves

Fish in pink bras
Or did you say bars?
Does it make sense
Looking out of jars?

Gnus in fancy skirts
Antelopes in heels
Am I dreaming this up?
Know how this feels?

Llamas being farmers
Pigs playing a console game
Now that bit is a true story
They can, babe – it’s not lame

Rabbits head out all fluffy
Bears dress in warm fur
This is how it’s meant to be –
Never to be worn by her

Penguins opt for sharp suits
Smarter than the naked chimps
Or so they like to think
For we know they’re no blimps

Tigers roam in orange stripes
While snakes twist and shake
Ever leaving their skins behind
On a handbag it just looks fake

Whales enhance their blue-grey
With barnacle accessories
Singing songs from the deep
Surely that’s the bees’ knees?

copyright Vickie Johnstone







Thursday, 11 April 2013

A Poem a Day (22): Why


Morning! Today's 5-minute poem is inspired by the prompt from Robert Lee Brewer in the Reader's Digest April PAD Challenge (day 10). The prompt is suffering.

If you want to join in with the challenge, here is the link:http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2013-april-pad-challenge-day-10

Here's my effort -


Why?

He sits shaking in the cold
Waiting for the morning
Drooling for some water
Yearning for some feeling
But none will come now
In this impenetrable dark
Where his only companion
Is the cage

He stares across the dirt
Lying clumped on concrete
Wishing he was elsewhere
Wanting his world to change
Almost desiring his death
But no one can help him now
In this oppressive dark -
Stolen away, his new home
Is the cage

Scuffing his black-furred paws
He stares at the missing claws
Waiting for the man to come
Wishing that he never would
Clearly desiring his death -
All they want is to drain him
Keep him here, locked away
Chained with a ring in his nose
In the cage


copyright Vickie Johnstone

Wednesday, 10 April 2013

A Poem a Day (21) - Hunted


Morning! Today's 5-minute poem is inspired by the prompt from Robert Lee Brewer in the Reader's Digest April PAD Challenge (day 9). The prompt is hunted or hunter.

If you want to join in with the challenge, here is the link:
http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2013-april-pad-challenge-day-9

Here's my effort -



Hunted

Beneath the curved moon’s stare
She runs

Livid in the ice-cold touch
Of air’s fingers
She turns

Lithe limbs burning,
Her mind sets on nothing
But the escape -
She dashes

Silver in the distancing,
The silent shimmer
Of the lake entices -
Knowing, panting, slipping,
She leaps

Into the dark, inviting depths.
Chill water cascades,
Dipping her ears,
Coating the twitching whiskers -
Flicking the droplets
She swims


copyright Vickie Johnstone


Sunday, 27 January 2013

A poem by Robert F. DeBurgh


Last week, I was sorry to hear that Spike, the cute dog owned by my friends and fellow authors, Greta and Robert Burroughs, had passed away. Yesterday, Robert posted a poem about him. I thought it was so touching that I'd post it here for everyone to read. Take it away, Rob...

IN MEMORY OF A BELOVED FRIEND



There must be a place
Where old dogs go
When their life on earth is done
A place where they may run and play
And snooze in the noonday sun

There must be a place
Where old dogs go
When they heed that final call
A place where they have all they need
A dish of food and a rubber ball

There must be a place
Where old dogs go
Where there never is cold rain
A place where the sun will always shine
And there will be no more pain

Yes, there must be a place
Where old dogs go
When their mission is finally through
A place where they grow young again
While waiting there for you

And one fine day in that sacred place
Where old dogs go
They’ll see you striding through the mist
Run to the call of your cherished voice
And beg to be loved and kissed

Together you’ll go from that dear place
To cross the rainbow bridge
To a place that lives in both your hearts, never more to roam
On the other side of the rainbow bridge
Will be your forever home


In memory of my beloved Spike - 1995-2013
Robert F. DeBurgh



Wednesday, 21 November 2012

Words with... Dominique Goodall


Welcome to Dominique Goodall, the wolf-crazy author of Echoes of Winter and Torn
























What books have you written so far?

I’ve only written Echoes of Winter and Torn – two completely unrelated projects. Echoes of Winter features a world in the future, as does Torn, but the similarities end there. Torn is a tale of Norse mythology and hell hounds combined; Echoes of Winter is a story of wolves in a world where humanity is failing/has failed.

What works in progress do you have?

Works in progress? Hmm…there’s Wolfsong (working title), Spring Surrender, Asunder and Through His Eyes. That’s it for now, but I’m working exclusively on Wolfsong for the time being.

Why do you write?

I write as an escape into the worlds my mind creates. I wouldn’t be a writer unless I had a strong sense of imagination and enough staying power to stick it out. I use writing as an escape, where the worlds I create are ideal to me and the characters go through problems I decide they should.

Which character from your books do you like most / are most like?

This will always be WaterSinger/Singer. She has appeared in a lot of stories (and not just my own ­ she’s a well-known character in some places!), and she is the ‘me’ I’d love to be if I happened to be a wolf one day. Sassy, bitchy at times, but willing to die for her friends – all things my friends have said about me or even seen.

Fave things: animal? food? drink? film? colour? band? song? place? item of clothing?

Animal would be the wolf.
Food is macaroni cheese!
Drink is water or Dr Pepper.

Would you say that your dreams have come true or are you still working on them?

My first dream is coming true, so I’m working on the next one. I’m not ashamed to admit that I work on one dream at a time – dreams are there to be fulfilled!

Which three authors would you like to take to the pub?

David Clements-Davies, William Horwood and Maggie Stiefvater – all people who also write about wolves!

How do you find the marketing experience?

Fun! I’ve included fans in everything I’ve done, asked them to name characters, given loads of teasers and had fun. Thinking up interesting new ways to promote things always helps, too!

What advice would you give other writers just starting out?

Always fight on. When you doubt yourself, ask someone to poke you. It has never been easier to become an author than now, though you need a sound idea. Editing is EVERYTHING; cover image is almost as important. Remember, the picture sells the book, the writing keeps you interested. Poorly edited books make people unhappy.

Do you have a blog? What do you blog about?

I blog about anything I want to. I have a good idea about what I want to say… so I say it. I used my blog to decide a book cover. I revealed my epically amazing trailer on the blog… it’s there for everything!

Complete one of these stories in 100 words or less…

2. In the deep and darkest reaches of the dank forest there lay a tiny little den, completely hidden from view. In that den lived a little vixen and her cubs, Brash and Banner. Both were male, which meant that as soon as the season changed, they would have to leave her. This saddened her, even as it made her proud. Both were handsome cubs who lacked just one thing – a territory to call their own. Brash left first, Banner following soon after his brother, but in a separate direction. She was alone again, until her next litter of cubs.

What question do you wish I’d asked and, of course, what is the answer?

Dominique Goodall is the author of the soon-to-be released Echoes of Winter, book one in the Seasons of the Wolf series and a self-confessed wolf addict. She has been published in two anthologies by Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing, and is currently working on getting herself better known by sending in manuscripts to as many different anthologies as she possibly can. As much as she loves to admit it, she never will be able to count her wolf stuff – there’s nothing left for her to be truly able to collect without her own home.

Links:

Friday, 5 October 2012

The Indie Exchange #FlashFiveFriday: Date



It's Friday Flash time again...

The prompt is...
Date





#FlashFiveFriday is a weekly flash fiction/flash blogging prompt run by The Indie Exchange.

The rules are very simple if you’d like to take part:
1) Write for no longer than five minutes;
2) No upper or lower word limits;
3) You must write something new;
4) You can prepare your post ahead of time but the 5 minute limit still applies; and
5) If you add your blog post to the weekly linky you must visit five other blogs that week too to show your support.


Click the link to read other people's flashies...

http://theindieexchange.com/flashfivefriday-9-date/     Why not give it a go?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I first read that the prompt was ‘late’, straight away I thought of the song from Alice in Wonderland. You know the one, "I'm late, I'm late for a very important date. No time to say hello, good-bye, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late." So that inspired my first Flash today.


Eric's date

He was late. He scurried out of the little green door, which clanged on its hinges. Opening the rusting, metal gate, he hurried down the eeling pathway, jumping over a slow-moving worm on the way.

“Thanks,” said Willy Wormer, breathing a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to meet the big old Worm Maker in the sky today.

“You're welcome,” mumbled Eric, rushing along the ground.

He’d forgotten his umbrella, which would never do. Eric glanced up at the sky, and sure enough it looked like rain and he was wearing his favourite waistcoat too. It was green with little blue buttons. How he hoped it wouldn’t get wet because then he just wouldn’t give the right impression.

Leaping a puddle, he jumped across the train tracks, one by one, careful to avoid the live rail. Since he was a wee one, his grandfather had lectured him daily on train safety. “Avoid the dastardly choo choo,” he’d wail at the end of every grand performance, which was often scarier than the prospect of a speeding train.

Across the field Eric ran, stopping now and then to greet a familiar spider, beetle or field mouse. After what seemed an eternity, he reached his destination, huffing and puffing. 

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door to The Wandering Inn and breezed inside. Scanning the wooden tables and chairs, he sighed to himself and smiled. She was there. She’d come after all. The sweetest mouse in all the world was waiting for him, her white fur shining in the light.

Brushing down his waistcoat, Eric strode towards her, his little black eyes sparkling. “I’m so squeaky glad you decided to meet me,” he beamed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

How time flies

Music plays softly in the background
A subtle tune fills the boredom
She glances up towards the clock
Tick-tock, it echoes against the wall

An old man sips his lager, cursing
As another waves his paper in the air
The 3.45 hadn’t been a dead cert
After all, and his piggy has run dry

Sara dips her finger in the wine
Runs a tip around the circular shape
It squeaks as though conversing;
How she aches for some chatter

Waiting, how she hates waiting
Why is he forever late?
Can’t he tell that she’s tiring
Of the same old, same old?

Yet she forgives him always
Just as she has these 30 years
Loving him always, no matter
That they spend more time apart

Of secret dates, secluded meets,
This pub aches with age-old stains
She sips the deep red wine
As he saunters through the door





Thursday, 4 October 2012

World Animal Day Blog Hop



Sponsored by Terri Giuliano Long, author of In Leah’s Wake,
and David M. Brown, author of the upcoming Man vs Cat


World Animal Day: 4 October, 2012


We're celebrating World Animal Day with a huge blog hop event! Yay!

Welcoming me home
Little eyes bright, whiskers twitch,
Purrs excitedly


High up on the road
Swifts soar as blue tits twitter,
Sounds of spring fly in



Hands up who likes animals? Hands up who lurrrrrves animals? All those fluffy, feathery, cuddly, cutesy, intelligent, faithful, funny creatures who share our lives and make our day. Mmm, I can see a big show of hands. Let's give a big cheers for their day! Grunt, eeeek, mew, voof, grivvet, splish, splosh, baa, moo, oink, neeeiiiigggh!

I love animals, especially cats. My first pet was a dog called Glen. I can't remember much about him, as I was really little, but we used to take him for walks along the marshes and fields where I lived. Glen was always chucking himself into the water whenever he could and shaking himself all over us, like a big dirty shower. I recently wrote a doggy character in a novel called 3 Heads & A Tail. I gave the dog the best lines, the best love story, brains and adventure, and I named him Glen. Recently, my dad told a story about this dog. My dad used to work on the railway and there was a rail yard where we lived in Slade Green. He'd hang out there with the other drivers and they were very friendly. I can't remember if this happened there or in a pub, but Glen, accompanying my dad, decided that he wanted to be a bit more human. Up he jumped on to the table and started lapping from some poor guy's pint! He got himself banned. He was a character!

We had loads of animals when I was a kid. The best time was when I was at Infants School and we had an aviary at the bottom of our garden. It was huge (or at least to me) and my dad built it. He bred a rainbow of budgies, which I thought I could communicate with simply by winking, and little bluish quails that pecked along the ground. The aviary was like a giant house of wonder. It had two doors. You walked in, closed one, and then walked through the next, so the birds were safe. Inside, I'd hold out my hand and the budgies would fly around tweeting and land on my palm, and look up at me. To a kid who loved animals, it didn't get any better than that.

We then moved to Erith, to a house on the corner of a street. We didn't have a huge back garden. It was kind of square, but my dad created a pond (as he did wherever we lived) and filled it with fish. During that time our animals included: 2 rabbits (Snowy & Harvey); 2 dogs (Penny & Bianca); at least 4 cats that I can recall (Misty, Mitzi, Buster & Smokey); another cat that someone asked my mum to take in, which turned out to be pregnant; 2 guinea pigs; 2 red-crested black newts; gerbils, which started off as 2, and sprouted; a cockerteil; a canary; some budgies (one was mine, called Pip); numerous fish; a duck that my mum took in from someone who knocked on our door, which vanished around Easter, making me very sad; and a tortoise called Tonic - we knew this because his name was painted on his shell, and he wandered under the garden gate one day, stayed a few weeks, and then wandered off, like a travelling gypsy with a shell. Add to this the numerous birds that my dad rescued from the garden, which would live in a box by the radiator for a while, before being released into the blue yonder. Oh, and a frog that my mum saved from Buster.

As I grew up, our furry family grew fewer, but we still had many pets compared with most people. We almost had a house rabbit. It was sooo cute and black, and tiny. My mum bought it during the week we were due to move to Cornwall. Cue the chaos of moving, particularly chaotic when it's about 250 miles away to the new home. Somewhere in the middle of the journey, on the motorway, my mum realised that she'd left the bunny in the toilet. Not 'in' the toilet (what were you thinking?), but in the room! He'd been put in there for safekeeping while the removal men were taking out our stuff. Panic set in as my mum rung her friend to contact the family who had bought our house. Happily, bunny was rescued and had a new owner. I always wondered what it would have been liked to have a house rabbit.

My first pets as a grown-up were two cats called Amy and Kiwi. Somehow they managed to get pregnant by the same smoky coloured tom (I could tell by the markings of what came later!) when they weren't even 6 months old (that taught me to get to the vet with a female cat asap!). I saw both cat births. Amy was first and she helped Kiwi with hers. It was fascinating. David Attenborough would have been impressed. Amy had 6 kittens and Kiwi, who was smaller, had 4. For 6 brilliant weeks I was greeted at the door by 10 stampeding balls of fluff and followed everywhere around the house. I'd wake up every morning to them all sleeping on me. Bliss. Of course, I couldn't keep 10 kittens, but I had an excellent local pet shop, run by a woman and her daughter, so 8 of my kitties went there. My mum wanted the ginger one with golden eyes, whom she named Charlie, and I persuaded her to take the little runt of the litter, who was a tough little fighter, called Lily.

Alas, I lost Kiwi when she was only 6 years old, but I immortalised her in Kiwi in Cat City, and I'm still writing this series set in a world of catizens. 

Today, I just have one pet. She's 13 now and her name is Mogsy. I can't imagine life without her. She's one of a kind.

I'll finish with a poem about two animals:


The fox and the mole

Let’s rob a bank
Said the fox to the mole
I’ve got mouths to feed
And I’m feeling the need

Ok, said the mole
But you know I can’t see
I can burrow real deep
But I might fall asleep

Well, said the fox
I can offer my cunning
I will find a way inside
And to you I’ll confide

Wake me up said the mole
When you discover this
As I’ve got a hunch
We’re in a credit crunch

So the fox went off thinking
How to rob the bank
And came up with a plan
While eating a cherry flan

Well then, asked the mole
What do you suggest we do
To steal all the money
But not do anything funny?

Aha, said the fox grinning
I’ll tell you what to do
Just burrow under the bank
While I drive up in a tank

Oh, said the mole frowning
I never thought of that
I didn’t know foxes could drive
Have you told this to your wife?

No, we have to keep this secret
Said the fox to the mole
As she’ll have my guts for garters
And that’s just for starters

So off went the fox and mole
To begin their bank robber life –
They rivalled Bonny and Clyde
Living it up, the law they defied




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Monday, 1 October 2012

MondayMogsy 3

My cat Mogsy likes to sleep in a lot of different places. She likes variety - it's the catnip of her cat life. One purrfect place to push up the zzzzzz will seem boring a week later. And she's the boss, after all. Wherever she wants to sleep, hey you've just got to live with it. Move around it. Shape your day...


Ooh, this is comfy. You don't really need to wear these, Mum... not now anyway. And I've got my bum up the door so that you cannot leave. You just have to look at my extreme cuteness. Hey, the belly is exposed and fluffy... that means strokies.... come on, mum, I want strokes! Now! And though it looks uncomfortable that I've got my legs and bum rammed up the door, squashing my tail, I can lay here for quite a while... there's no escape for you, mum...






Now I'm on your bed. So comfy. You don't need it. It's mine. Purr purr. If you want to sleep, you've got to squeeze in around ME cos I'm the boss. I'm the kitty. Look at my paws... aren't they cute...?






Now I know you just left the room for a minute after getting out your bag and your make-up bag, and your books, and you were having a sort-out to go out, but, hey, I'm here now. I'm laying on your bag so you're not going anywhere!





Ha ha, so you thought you could watch a DVD rather than give me some attention and strokes, I think not. I'm just going to locate the 'Stop' button. Then again, maybe I can find some adverts for Whiskers or some nice pics of birds flying... 





So, you thought you would do some writing or that book stuff you're obsessed with while listening to music? Ah ah, I think not. Look, I'm wriggling on my back with my legs in the air, looking cute. Look at me, look at me! Now you can't sit here cos I'm here! How are you going to work now? You can't! You're going to have to cuddle me cos I'm cute and far more interesting than book stuff. And if you put the laptop back on your lap, I'm just going to squeeze in between the machine and your belly. Purr purr! I'm cute!


Now it's time for sleepies.... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....
on your bed, of course, in my bunny feet position.











Monday, 24 September 2012

MondayMogsy: places to sleep 2


Today's bloggy bit is going to very short and sweet cos I had to endure the London Tube in the rush hour today for the first time in months... and it was a shock! I'm mashed!

Cue something cute... Mogsy... 

Here she is doing her best PlayCat pose, complete with 'you really want to stroke me, yes you do' eyes and 'catfood wouldn't melt in my mouth' expression.

I'm not sure if this is unusual for a cat and only Mogsy's thing, but she loves her paws tickled! Seriously! The only cat I've ever had who likes this. If I tickle her paws, I get the full-on roly-poly action and lots of purrs, dreamy eyes and wriggling.

After a weird outbreak of excema that lasted a year or so, I finally got to see a specialist. Guess what? He thinks I'm suddenly allergic to my cat... after all this time. He told me to 'get rid of the cat'! Imagine? And he also said 'I know it won't be great for the cat...' Hell no, mew no. There's no way. The cat is staying! After 13 years, we're like family. Allergies or no allergies!





Monday, 17 September 2012

MogsyMonday: places to sleep 1

I figure that Monday is the least fun day of the week, so from now on it's going to be renamed Mogsy Monday, and it's going to be all about my cat.

My cat may be 13 - it was her birthday in June - but she's still as cute as a button. She's a cancer, but she doesn't move sideways in crabby fashion. Luckily for me, she's not a hunter, as I love birds and mice, but she does, for some reason, like to munch insects. Not any old insect, but spiders! Yikes! 

Maybe she noticed that her mum doesn't particularly love them, but she grew up swatting them. For a while she'd just leave them lying there, leggies up or bunched balls, and I'd stumbled across them unawares and scream. Then they began to vanish. Cue spiderless homes for years, which is cool for the scared. Nowadays, she's slowed down on the spider hunting, and alas, I see many eight-leggies wandering around.

Anyway, here's Moggie doing what she does best - looking cute!


Mogsy loves to cat nap and cat snooze and cat sleep and well, you've got the picture. Anything and anywhere can be reinvented to be her prize sleeping place. 

Here's Mogsy's happy sleeping place number 1: my bed!

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz





Tuesday, 11 September 2012

Book Review: Noah Zarc: Mammoth Trouble




By D Robert Pease

Amazon rating: 5 stars

I really enjoyed this book. It had many themes: time travel, how we define disability, the environment, extinction, family, friendship, our relationship with nature and animals, and choice.

I thought it was interesting that the hero was a paraplegic. We are told: “I was born without the use of both of my legs. The only time I feel free is when I’m piloting a ship.” Our hero finds himself frustrated by his own body, which limits him, but he appears to be a born pilot. Through this he finds confidence and freedom. Cue an adventure. 

For a world without animals, Noah and his family, and their own four-legged friend are the only hope. Earth has been saved for the animals, and humans are now living on Mars and Venus. It is the job of Noah’s parents, himself and his siblings, to travel through time on the Animal Rescue Cruiser to find those creatures now extinct in their own time. Unfortunately, not everyone thinks this is a good idea. And there begins the plot of the story.

I particularly liked the characters of Noah and his father. Adina, Hamilton, Sam and Haon are also well developed.

The author investigates how Noah sees himself and his disability, and how he grows. In this book he learns a lot about himself and his strengths, along with some things about his family and secrets long hidden. I found this book fun and easy to read. The style is easy. The plot is exciting. There’s suspense, fun and some heroics thrown in. I look forward to the author’s next books.

Author page:

US: http://www.amazon.com/D.-Robert-Pease/e/B005HF5G8E/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/D.-Robert-Pease/e/B005HF5G8E/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1




Sunday, 17 June 2012

Sample Sunday: Kiwi in Cat City





Happy lazy Sunday to ya! Here's a sample taste of Kiwi in Cat City

For children aged 9+, teens and adults...

One dark night, Amy cannot sleep and she looks out of the window into the garden to see her cat, Kiwi, transfixed by the moon, which is glowing brightly like a cat's claw. Waking her brother, James, Amy suggests they follow Kiwi to see where she goes... whether it involves a hunt for mice or something else. Little do they know that, with a flick of her tail, Kiwi is going to magically change them into kittens and lead them on the adventure of their lives to a land they never knew existed in their wildest dreams. In the blue-lit world of Cat City, the budding detectives help Inspector Furrball to solve the mystery of the missing catizens and find out what happened to Madame Purrfect. 




Introduction

The night was dark and the streetlights glinted a faded blue wash across the street. It was very quiet. The little houses sat still and motionless, with curtains drawn and nearly everyone sleeping. Mr Katz looked at his watch. He was running late. Work had been so hectic this week and he was starving. He could feel his belly rumbling and his nose twitched, just like it always did when he was hungry. He began dreaming of food, lashings of food, mountains of it, steaming hot, and a nice warm mug of milk to send him off to sleep. He smiled at the idea of it. Nice and warm in bed with a nice mug of milk...tap tap tap… from behind him drifted the sound of footsteps in the dead night. In the distance, but getting louder. He turned to see who was out this late, but could see no-one. Weird. He could hear the steps getting nearer. He stopped whistling and quickened his pace.
Round the corner he went, walking fast, his breathing growing heavier. Behind him he could hear the footsteps approaching nearer and nearer. He turned but could see no-one in the dark. He turned another corner, and the next. Still he could hear the footsteps. Louder and louder. Nearer and nearer. Faster and faster. Mr Katz broke into a run. He dropped his bag and sped round the next corner and the next. And the next. Bang. He stopped all of a sudden.
“Are you alright sir? You seem in a bit of a hurry,” said the female voice. He squinted as he puffed, out of breath, but he could not see her face properly as it was so dark.
“Yes,” said Mr Katz. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was in a bit of a rush…”
“So it seems,” she said. “But you ran in the wrong direction…”
Mr Katz felt someone grab him from behind. He coughed and his heart raced. He went cold.
“You really should have gone the other way,” said the male voice.
Then everything went dark.



Chapter one: follow, follow

Amy awoke and saw her black cat sitting perched on the end of her bed, studying the gleaming moon. She rubbed her eyes and sat up just in time to see Kiwi leap out of the window and on to the ledge below. Amy crept out of bed and peered outside. The cat was standing perfectly balanced on the wooden garden fence, calm and still, her tail perked up. A dark silhouette staring up at the moon. I wonder where she’s going, thought Amy. She crept into her brother James’ room where he was sleeping soundly, and prodded his arm until he woke with a jump.
“What?” he gasped, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “I was dreaming. You really scared me.”
“Come and look.”
“Eh?” He stumbled out of bed and, like a zombie, followed his sister to the window. Gazing out, they could see the black cat still sitting on the fence.
“She has been sitting there for ages,” said Amy.
“Maybe she’s stretching,” he shrugged.
They watched, but Kiwi didn’t stretch. Instead she leapt off the fence and stood on the path, looking up at the moon.
“Now that’s weird. That’s what I’m talking about,” said Amy. “She’s thinking about something.”
“I wonder where she goes at night,” James mused.
“Hunting mice,” grinned Amy.
“Yuk, she wouldn’t. Would she?”
“Tell you what, I’m going to follow her and see…”
“You’re crazy,” gasped James. “It’s 1am and mum will kill you.”
“I want to see what she has for breakfast,” Amy laughed. “Don’t you?”
“Yuk! That’s grim,” said James, screwing up his face.
Amy wandered back to her room with her little brother following, half-asleep and a bit confused.
“So you’re coming then?” asked Amy, putting on her shoes and jacket.
“Errm,” he murmured as his sister crept out of the room on tiptoes. “Okay, but if she catches anything I’m not touching it…”
James slid on his trainers, jeans and jacket, and crept down the stairs after his sister, being careful not to make a sound. He could hear his dad snoring like a sleeping dragon. The sound echoed off of every wall. They tiptoed to the back door and slowly opened it on its creaky hinges. It was so loud. Ahh.
Kiwi was still sitting in the middle of the garden, staring up at the moon. Holding their breath they slowly closed the door without a sound. Turning around, they were just in time to see Kiwi plunge over the fence in a single bound. The two children looked at one another, raised eyebrows, and ran to the bottom of the garden to the gate. Out they went, giggling. It was a warm summer night without a breeze. In the field beyond the gate, trees soared up against the night sky, jagged and spectre-like. Without the shine of the moon it would have been completely dark. James shivered, but he had already decided that he was not going to look scared, even if he was.
“There she goes,” pointed Amy, as they bounded across the field towards the black tail that bobbed above the grass in the distance.
They chased and chased. The black cat ran and ran. They swerved between trees and the black cat just kept running. The children started to puff and pant. “Kiwi!” they yelled.
Suddenly, the cat’s ears pricked up and she stopped with a jump. Caught unawares, the little black cat turned around, her yellow eyes wide and enquiring. “Are you two following me?”
Amy and James stopped dead in their tracks. James sat down on the grass with a bump, his mouth wide open. Amy wanted to say something, but she couldn’t speak.
“Well, are you?” asked Kiwi, standing up straight and resting one paw on her hip. “It’s a bit late to be out playing you know.”
Kiwi grinned the biggest, widest grin and flicked her tail. She sat down and started washing, knowing that she had just given her two playmates the biggest shock of their lives. She carried on washing her paw, flicked out a claw, and waited for a reply. It was a long time coming.
The children were transfixed, rooted to the spot. Cold fingers of air travelled up their spines and made all of the hairs on their necks stand up. Amy gulped. Was she dreaming?
“What’s wrong?” laughed Kiwi. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” Amy sat down with a thump.
“Yooouuuu taaaallllkkkkk,” James stuttered.
“Well, what were you expecting? Sign language?” asked Kiwi matter-of-factly.
“But, we can understand you,” mumbled Amy, pinching her arm. Ouch. She wasn’t dreaming. Could this be real after all?
“Well, I know several languages,” explained Kiwi. “It comes in handy. So you WERE following me? Ha ha!”
“Sort of,” said James. “We were wondering what you ate for breakfast.”
“Like mice?” asked Kiwi, grinning.
“Well yes.”
Kiwi laughed. “I have more important things to do. And mice taste funny. Errr. Not good. And mice have feelings too. They’re very intelligent you know. I have several good friends who are mice….” Kiwi stopped talking as the two children sat open-mouthed in shock, blinking oddly.
“Ok, well, enough of that,” she carried on. Best to change the subject. “I was joking. I don’t have any mouse friends! Well, you see that moon up there? See how it’s really bright and glowing?”
The kids nodded.
“And see how it’s shaped like a cat’s claw?”
“I guess…” said James.
“Well, nights like these are not ordinary nights,” said the cat, looking straight at the boy.
James shivered. “Why?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. Was Kiwi going to eat them?
“Well,” said Kiwi slowly, “if you really want to know… why don’t you follow me some more?”
It was a challenge. The cat was grinning from ear to ear now. Amy was cold and scared. She could only stare awkwardly as though hypnotised while her brother chatted to the cat… the cat…. THE CAT! She felt dizzy.
After a few more minutes, Kiwi gazed back at the moon. It seemed even brighter. She got up. “There is no more time to lose. I have to go now. Are you coming?” She flashed her big, yellow eyes.
James sprung to his feet. “I’m coming,” he announced.
“No,” called Amy as James started to follow the little black cat. “I’m scared. Don’t follow. This is too weird…”
But James didn’t listen and carried on walking. Amy pulled herself to her feet and looked behind her. The field was empty. It must be about 2am by now, if not later. Their parents would be getting up in a few hours for work. Morning was fast approaching. What should she do? She couldn’t let her brother go alone. What if he got lost? “Wait!” she shouted, and charged after her brother and her suddenly talking cat. Things were not how they were meant to be today.



Chapter two: as easy as one, two, three

“Come on,” said Kiwi. “We’re nearly there.”
“Where?” asked James, glancing around at the big, open and completely empty field. All around the edges, the tall trees loomed, stretching up like a giant, natural wall.
“Here,” said Kiwi.
“But there’s nothing here,” said James, cold and slightly impatient. Not only could his pet cat talk, but she was also clearly crazy.
“There’s more than the eye can see,” said Kiwi, gazing up with her big, yellow saucer eyes. “Just follow what I do. And concentrate. It’s easy.”
The cat sat down and stared up at the moon. “One, two, three, a flick of the tail, a purr, a leap and away we go…”
Puff! She vanished. All that remained was a strange, glowing, purple mist.
“She disappeared!” cried Amy, turning round in a circle. “I can’t see her. Can you?”
“Your turn,” he said quietly.
“What? Are you crazy? She‘s just hiding in the grass,” said Amy.
“You go first, like she says…”
Amy looked annoyed. “You can’t be serious. You’re not suggesting…”
James nodded. “You’re the oldest.”
“No way!” she replied. “I haven’t got a tail to flick and I’m pretty sure I can’t purr…”
“I think you’re meant to imagine one…”
“You’re mad,” said Amy.
“Mmm I’m going to try,” sighed James, and he starting counting out loud.” One, two…”
“Ok, Ok,” cried Amy, clenching her fists to her sides. “Now straight after this I’m taking you home. Okay?”
And so, Amy flicked her imaginary tail, which was pretty long in her mind, purred and leapt up into the air – into nothing, or something? She couldn’t make it out. She had this amazing feeling of pure weightlessness as if her body weighed nothing. It also felt smaller, and she seemed to be floating. All around, everything was purple…
“Wow, it worked,” shouted James, jumping up and down. And he collapsed into giggles. “Cool!”
In the spot where his sister had jumped, only a puff of purple mist was left. Now it’s my turn, he thought, and turning round with a one, two, three and a flick of his imaginary tail, a purr and a leap, away he went to who-knows-where. A feeling of sheer weightlessness gave him the impression that he was flying. Wild! But where was he flying to?
“Ahem, the landing can sometimes be a bit difficult until you get used to it,” grinned Kiwi, washing her nose with a paw as Amy found herself collapsed in a heap on the floor. “You’ll have to get used to being on four feet now!”
“Four?” Amy stuttered, bewildered.
“Sure, look down and see how many feet you’ve got.”
“Eeeeeek!” Kiwi was right. Not one, not two, not three, but four feet were attached to her new body – but they were not feet, they were paws!! Fluffy black and white paws! “No!” Amy jumped backwards and fell over. But the biggest shock of all was the big white fluffy tail that wiggled out like a worm behind her. “Oh no!” she cried, and then fell over again trying to chase round in a circle to check out the tail more clearly. “Ahhh”, she yelled, and then a small laugh bubbled up inside her, spilling over until she couldn’t stop. She rolled over on her back with her legs in the air. All four of them. “I have a tail! A tail!” And she laughed some more.
Just at that moment, James fell through the sky and bounced on the ground with a little “ouch”.
Except that, of course, it wasn’t quite James. Well, it was and it wasn’t. James was now a little, tabby kitten with a very pink nose. He wobbled a bit on his new feet when he walked, with his tail stuck up like a radar.
“Where’s Amy?” he asked as he sat down, a bit dazed.
“Don’t you recognise her?” grinned Kiwi, nodding towards the little black-and-white cat, who sat bright-eyed and staring at him.
“No, really, where is she? Is she okay?”
“I can see this is going to take a while,” said Kiwi, taking charge. “Amy meet James, James meet Amy. No, you’re not dreaming. Yes you have a tail.”
“No, you’re joking…”
“I’m afraid she’s not,” purred Amy in her feline voice.
“Ah,” shouted James and fell over. He noticed that Amy still had her flowery necklace on. “It can’t be true! Hey, what’s that? Hey, I’ve got a tail! Wow! And four paws. No way! This tail is really bushy…”
Amy started giggling. Kiwi raised an eyebrow. It was going to be a long night. Humans!